


Hold On, We’re Going Home

by Hysteric_for_Sterek (Princess_Rachy)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 6b trailer inspired, Airplanes, Banter, Car Puns, Derek is getting better, Derek-centric, FBI in Training Stiles Stilinski, Getting Together, M/M, POV Derek, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Student Stiles, Terrible terrible car puns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-14
Updated: 2017-07-14
Packaged: 2018-12-02 03:41:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11501043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Rachy/pseuds/Hysteric_for_Sterek
Summary: What's the story behind that <“Didn’t think you were doing this without me, did ya?”...“Without us”> scene from the 6B Trailer?... Maybe this is the story?





	Hold On, We’re Going Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, so at the time of writing this, the 6B Trailer aired 4 days ago, the first episode drops in T minus 15 days, Tumblr is still going nuts and I couldn't sleep until I wrote this.  
> I'm definitely keen to find out the canon story behind that part of the trailer where Stiles pulls up in the Jeep and says "“Didn’t think you were doing this without me, did ya?” and then Derek appears next to the Jeep, looks straight into the camera, SMILES, and says “Without us” and then Scott actually gasps (along with the rest of us). But until we see it on our screens, this is the story I'm going with.  
> P.S. Thi is un-beta'd and I'm an Aussie so I apologize if that shines through!

Derek wasn’t alarmed when he heard Stiles’ new-old Jeep (he’d bought a nearly identical crappy Jeep the second he’d landed in Washington 3 years ago for “sentimental, comfort-zone reasons”) rumble to a stop outside his building at 11pm on a Thursday. Since he’d moved to Washington and left Beacon Hills behind him, there were much less supernatural emergencies springing up around every corner and he’d learned to let himself relax a bit more. Plus, getting random visits from Stiles weren’t exactly uncommon either, seeing as GWU was only a ten minute drive away and Stiles liked to use Derek’s apartment as his own personal home away from home, dropping in to study in quiet when his roommate was being annoying, or bringing over take-out and insisting Derek watch his latest pirated movie with him.

_(No, Stiles’ presence had nothing to do with his decision to move to Washington. He likes the Washington Nationals. Shut up.)_

“Derek?” Stiles called out as Derek listened to him use his key to let himself into the apartment ( _shut up, the spare key is just practical_ ) and make his way into the room where Derek was draped over the couch in front of the history channel.

“Hey,” Stiles greeted too-cheerily when he spotted Derek. “Pack a bag, we’re going on a trip!”

Derek’s eyebrows raised of their own accord and he used his elbows to push himself further upright so he could focus all their bushy, communicative power on Stiles. “What are you on about?”

“So… Scott called me. There’s a shit-storm brewing in Beacon Hills and they need us,” Stiles shrugged almost apologetically, before he turned on his heel and started heading for Derek’s bedroom. Derek clambered to his feet quickly and followed him.

“What sort of shit-storm?” he asked, watching Stiles drag his duffel bag down from the top of his closet and start pulling some of his shirts off hangers to throw them in hap-hazardly. Derek immediately moved to stand between Stiles and his clothes to halt his progress and stared at him hard. Stiles sighed and his shoulders slumped slightly in defeat, hands dropping to his sides where he was still clutching one of Derek’s grey shirts in his hand.

“Gerard’s back. And he’s brought an entire army’s worth of hunters. From what Scott told me, well, I think Argent’s basically declared war, Derek. They’re out-numbered and Scott’s calling in all the re-enforcements he can find. We gotta go.”

Derek frowned. “Why didn’t Scott call me? And why did he call you?”

Derek saw Stiles flinch and his face cloud over with anger.

“Why the hell _wouldn’t_ Scott call me? People call their best friends when they need help Derek. It’s what friends do. They drop everything to help a friend in an emergency. _Obviously_ he called me. What the hell kind of question is that?”

Derek could easily see the determination and irritation etched in Stiles’ features from where he was still standing only a foot or so in front of Derek in the closet doorway.

“Stop. I didn’t mean it like tha-“

“Yes you did. After all this time, you still think I can’t handle anything!”

“He basically summoned you into danger, Stiles! That’s not what friends do in my book.”

“And what would you know about that, hmm?” Stiles shot back and it felt like he’d just punched Derek in the gut. “Sorry,” Stiles quickly amended, closing his eyes in frustration, “I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Derek didn’t say anything, just concentrated on how his skin now felt like it was prickling all over.

“It’s just- argh!” Stiles threw his hands up in frustration again and then dragged one over his face before looking back at Derek. “See, that _is_ the thing, Derek – we _are_ friends. Which means you should know me by now. Scott didn’t call his defenseless human friend and invite him to come jumping into danger. He called his best friend who he has faith in and knows can hold his own pretty damn well and trusts to have his back. Look, I’ve been training with the FBI for a couple of years now Derek. You _know_ I’m at the top of my class. You’ve been teaching me extra defensive strategies against supernatural threats. Deaton’s been sending me actual helpful resources and research on defensive spells and elements. I have a crazy collection of wolfs bane, mountain ash, mistletoe, runes. I’ve survived alpha werewolves, a kanima, a darach, a Nogitsune possession, the Wild Hunt. I’ve saved your ass in particular on more than one occasion.” Stiles gripped Derek’s shoulder tightly and leaned forward to stare into Derek’s eyes to convey how much he needed Derek to listen to what he was saying. “When are you going to start seeing me as more than a puny human, Derek? I am as powerful as I can possibly be for a 22 year old human with zero supernatural abilities, OK? I’m never going to voluntarily get turned into a were’ and I thought you were- I _need_ you to be OK with that.”

Derek sighed. “I am OK with that, Stiles, you know I am. I don’t want that life for you.”

“Yeah well, like I told my Dad, I don’t need fangs and fur to kick ass - I’m going to be an officer of the law,” Stiles smirked and Derek felt his lip twitch despite himself.

“So…” Stiles removed his hand from Derek’s shoulder and scratched at his cheek. “Are you gonna come with me or what?”

“Scott didn’t call me.”

“Oh my God, don’t be such a dramawolf,” Stiles rolled his eyes, then pushed past Derek to continue rifling through his wardrobe. “Your phone’s off, dumbass. Why do you think I didn’t call ahead so you could have started packing before I got here?”

“Oh,” Derek’s eyes flashed to his bedside table to see he’d forgotten to plug his phone into the charger again. Stiles snorted and tossed a dark green Henley onto the pile he was stacking on top of the duffel bag. “I can pack my own bag,” Derek grumbled.

“No, you won’t do it right,” Stiles claimed with a half-shrug. Derek just raised an eyebrow again.

“I think I can manage,” he said, reaching for an old brown jumper before Stiles slapped his hand away.

“Clearly not. Get the burgundy one,” he said, pointing. “With the thumb-holes.”

“Why?” Derek narrowed his eyes at him.

“Because reasons” was the only response Derek got before being pushed toward the bathroom and told to get his toiletries together and leave the clothes packing to Stiles.

-

20 minutes later, they were getting into the jeep.

“We’re never going to make it to California in this junk-pile,” Derek stated, wrinkling his nose as he slid reluctantly into the passenger seat. The only difference between this jeep and the one Stiles left Scott in California was that this one was green.

“OK first of all, we only have to make it as far as the airport because obviously time is of the essence and I booked us plane tickets, we’re not driving all the way to Beacon Hills. And _secondly_ , you shut your lying mouth, of course we’d make it. My Baby2.0 is as resilient as I am. It’s one of the many things we have in common, along with a hatred of cold mornings, the tendency to drive outside the lines and a love of ‘parking’.”

Derek smirked smugly when Stiles turned the key in the ignition and the Jeep just proceeded to splutter for a second before dying.

“Is that another thing you have in common?” Derek asked, teasingly. Stiles just glared at him and turned the key again. The Jeep reluctantly sputtered to life and Stiles grinned.

“No, but _that_ is. Our shared ability to never let ya down!”

“What about your shared ability to make a lot of unnecessary noise?”

“Rude. I’ll have you know, we’re both a good ride,” Stiles winked and Derek valiantly fought the creep of a blush. Truthfully, he was just glad they were back to their normal banter and not arguing anymore. He knew as soon as they got to Beacon Hills, it would all be running from danger and trying to stop anyone getting killed and a whole lot of pain and blood and hurt. _The Beacon Hills Effect_. Might as well spend this last bit of peace and quiet doing what he and Stiles now did best.

“Do you both spend a lot of time on the side of the road too?” Derek countered. Stiles shot him an unimpressed look.

“No… but we do both go through a lot of rubbers and lube.”

Derek rolled his eyes and groaned at the bad pun, before he suddenly remembered a legitimate conversation they’d had the week before.

“Hey, didn’t you say she _blew a rod_ last week?”

“Ha!” Stiles’ chuckle exploded from him and he looked impressed with Derek. “Touché. I did say that,” he agreed with a leer. “She also has a sticky joystick and is overdue a rim job…”

There was no fighting the blush this time, so Derek just covered his face with a hand as Stiles continued to laugh. Derek was all out of ammo now and really didn’t want _that_ little bombshell to be left hanging in the air between them for the remainder of the drive. He was wracking his brain for some way to change the subject smoothly, when Stiles leaned over slightly and just let one rip.

 “We’re both full of gas too,” Stiles laughed and tried to dodge Derek’s hand smacking his shoulder.

-

“Can I use your phone?” Derek asked Stiles while they sat side by side sipping their coffees in the airport lounge. “I should call Cora.”

“See, this is why you need to learn to keep your phone charged. I don’t even know why you bother to own one at all. You might as well just stick to howling as your main mode of long-distance communication.”

“Just shut up and hand it over,” Derek sighed, palm out toward Stiles. Stiles merely slapped his palm in a low-five.

“Derek Lee Hale, where are your manners?”

“How do you know my middle name?” Derek asked, somewhat alarmed.

“Why must you upset me with your constant underestimating of my talents? FBI-in-training, dude - I know all sorts of things about you,” Stiles winked and Derek swallowed. “And there’s no point trying to call Cora - she’ll be on a plane right about now anyway.”

“What?”

“I told you, whatever’s going down is pretty major, dude. We need literally every contact and favor we have outstanding.”

Derek felt the anger start bubbling up through him. He didn’t think Cora would ever voluntarily return to Beacon Hills. “You made Cora-“

“Woah! Stop. Take a minute to think before you start accusing me of something so I don’t have to go and get all pissed off at you again.”

Derek clenched his jaw, but it didn’t take long before his brain kicked into gear. Cora’s voice echoed in his head. _No one, especially Stilinski, could ever make me do anything I didn’t want to do, Derek. Honestly, sometimes you’re as thick as a plank._ No, Stiles didn’t make Cora do anything. And he probably wasn’t even the one to ask the question in the first place.

“Scott called Cora.”

“He did.”

“And she agreed to go because she knew I’d be going.”

“She did. She called me to confirm that part first when she couldn’t get a hold of you because your _phone was off_. Do you see a pattern to this? All roads lead to a phone charger, Derek.”

Derek sighed. “Do you have to be so infuriating all of the god damn time?”

“Pretty sure you meant to say ‘awesome’, and the answer to that is yes.”

The boarding call for their flight sounded and they both got to their feet and deposited their empty coffee cups in the closest trash can.

“How much do I owe you for the plane ticket?” Derek asked as they made their way toward the boarding gate.

“Uh, nothing. Nothing at all,” Stiles replied suspiciously.

Derek narrowed his eyes.

“You used my credit card to buy them both, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did. I’m awesome, but I’m also poor.”

-

Five years ago, the thought of sitting next to Stiles on a plane for 4 hours would have seemed like a nightmare. It’s funny how time can change things exponentially. Stiles wasn’t the same irritating, juvenile teenager anymore – he’d grown up, been through a lot, gotten more disciplined and tougher around the edges. Obviously he was still _Stiles_ , so maybe a lot of people wouldn’t be so quick to use those words to describe him, but anyone who’d known Stiles a few years ago certainly would. And the same went for Derek. Your average person would still likely call him grumpy and prickly and closed-off, but anyone that could compare today’s Derek to past Derek would easily be able to spot the differences – he was able to trust people again now, he was easier on himself, smiled more, was a bit softer around the edges. They seemed to balance each other out nowadays. They were friends.

The first half of the flight was spent watching some movie on the tiny monitor on the back of the headrests in front of them. Derek’s earphone jack didn’t seem to be working, so Stiles had wordlessly shoved one of his earbuds into Derek’s ear and switched his pillow from leaning against the window to leaning against Derek’s shoulder instead so the earphones could reach between them both. For some reason, Derek’s fingertips began to itch when he looked down at Stiles leaning against him.

Derek noticed Stiles’ gaze started wandering to the black sky out the slip of his window more than he was watching the screen by the end of the movie. If asked, Derek wouldn’t really have been able to tell anyone what the movie had been about either. His mind was already in Beacon Hills.

“Wanna talk about it?” Derek asked, turning off the screen and coiling the earphones up once the credits started rolling.

“I can feel it, Der. It’s going to be bad,” Stiles sighed, moving his pillow back to the window side so it was no longer between them.

“It usually is,” Derek nodded. “But… we always get through it, right?”

“Jesus, it must be bad if Derek Hale is the one being positive. I must be dying. I’m going to die.”

Derek had no control over the growl that rumbled through him at the thought. “I can’t let myself think of anyone dying.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. Positive thinking. You’re right. But just… this feels like we’re about to land in a warzone. Like, a legitimate fucking warzone, Derek. And I don’t like it. Beacon Hills is home. Going home isn’t supposed to be terrifying.”

Derek’s never been good with words. He’s always been all growls and glares and eyebrows, not talking. He usually said the wrong thing and made it all worse whenever he tried. But now was one of those times when he knew he had to say _something._ He thought about how he didn’t even think of Beacon Hills as home anymore. He couldn’t look at that burnt out shell of what used to be his family’s house and still call it home. It had been a home once, yes, but only when it was filled with family and laughter and love. Now it was more like a tomb.

“I think… I think that home isn’t always a place. Home is a feeling. Home is people that care about and love you. And when you’re able to make that distinction, you can take home with you anywhere.”

When Derek realized Stiles had stopped breathing, he looked up from where he’d been resolutely staring at his hands in his lap to gauge Stiles’ reaction. The intensity in the look on Stiles’ face had him quickly looking back down again.

“Uh-“

Luckily, he was saved from making an even bigger idiot of himself and shoving his foot even further into his mouth by a flight attendant interrupting them with an offer of drinks. By the time Derek had accepted the two coffees and set them down on his tray table, Stiles had resumed breathing again and was staring straight forward.

“I think we have time for one more movie before we have to go into battle,” he said. “How about Despicable Me? It’s about a grouchy guy who thinks he’s a villain and tries to steal the moon, but he’s really just an adorable, sappy marshmallow who adopts three defenseless kids. Sounds familiar and right up your ally.”

-

After they’d retrieved their luggage, Stiles switched his phone on to check where Scott had parked his Jeep for them while Derek, having charged his phone up on the plane, switched his on to find a bunch of text messages from Scott, Cora and Stiles, mostly trying to get hold of him from the night before.

“C’mon, this way,” Stiles motioned with his head, tucking his phone into his pocket and hefting his bag onto his shoulder. It was 5am and Scott and Liam had apparently left the Jeep in the lot for them when they’d picked Cora up several hours earlier so that Derek and Stiles wouldn’t have to pay for a cab. It was thoughtful of Scott, he supposed, but right then, relaxing a little in the back of a cab sounded preferable to driving themselves the 2 hours back to Beacon Hills. Derek watched as Stiles yawned and fished the keys out from somewhere near the front bumper.

“Maybe we should just crash here for a few hours and get some sleep before we drive back,” Derek suggested. “The airport hotel should have some cheap rooms available.”

“I’m OK to drive,” Stiles told him, stifling another yawn.

“But are you OK to drive 2 hours, then go see your Dad for at least an hour, and then let Scott and the rest of the much more awake and energetic pack hug and scent-mark you for another hour? And then probably dive head-first into some kind of danger?”

“OK, smartass. But you’re paying.”

“I figured.”

“It’ll probably cost more than a cab home would have.”

“Probably. But that’s what happens when I’m not involved in the planning.”

“Pfft. Yeah OK Sourwolf, I must have forgotten what a master planner you are. And just imagined all those times your previous plans have all gone horribly wrong.”

“Must have.”

They made their way back into the airport and managed to book a queen motel room. As soon as they walked into the room, Stiles dumped his bags on the floor and faceplanted onto the bed in the middle of the room.

“Ugh, this place smells funky, even to my human nose,” he mumbled into the mattress. Derek just grunted in response and started breathing out of his mouth instead. He set his own bags down next to Stiles’ and went to use the bathroom. By the time he emerged, freshly showered and wearing his burgundy sweater with the thumb-holes, Stiles was already asleep. He’d managed to move over to one side of the bed and as Derek approached he could tell Stiles had done his best to roll around all over it to try to make it smell more familiar for him. Stiles had even placed his own pillow on Derek’s side and taken the crappy motel pillow for himself. Derek smiled fondly at him and crawled into the bed. Between the unfamiliar scents, anxiousness at being back in California and the general sense of impending doom running through his veins, Derek doubted he’d be getting any sleep. But, as usual, he was wrong.

-

Derek woke up a few hours later to the slightly increased, but steady beating of Stiles’ heart. He rubbed a hand over his face and slowly blinked his eyes open. Stiles was laying on his side, facing him, staring at him intently.

“Well this is a role-reversal,” Derek mumbled, voice rough from sleep. “Last time we were in California it was usually me staring you awake.”

Stiles remained silent and Derek blinked his eyes open again and raised an eyebrow in question. Stiles’ expression hadn’t changed. He was looking at Derek like he was trying to figure something out, like he was a puzzle Stiles was trying to solve. Derek opened his mouth to ask what Stiles was thinking about when, suddenly, his mouth was already occupied.

Stiles’ lips were firm and warm against his – confident and sure, even though Derek could hear the increased rate and skipped beat in Stiles’ chest clear as day. Derek didn’t even have to think about bringing his hand up to cup Stiles’ face and press his lips back eagerly in response.

Whether he ever admitted it before or not, Derek knew this had always been here, lying dormant beneath the surface. It was like a small seed of something that, if he chose to feed it and nurture it, would grow into something much bigger. But it had taken him long enough to accept the seed for what it was and let it stay there without actively trying to kill it. At first he’d tried to push it all away, telling himself Stiles deserved someone better than him and that he didn’t deserve the happiness Stiles would bring him in return, but as Derek learnt to start forgiving himself and letting himself be content with the things that made him happy, and as he also learnt that there was no trying to tell Stiles what was good for him if he didn’t want to hear it, Derek had just kind of accepted it. He’d learned to just let the seed be, but he’d refused to act on trying to make it grow into anything more.

Now - here in this motel bed at the airport, surrounded by the sounds of planes taking off and house-keeping trolleys in the hallway, with morning-breath and the scents of strangers, with the feel of Stiles’ tongue dancing with his own and of stubble beneath his fingertips, finally scratching that itch - he could feel the seed taking root, the vines creeping out and wrapping around all the important parts of him, leaves sprouting and flowers blooming inside his chest. He felt connected and present and right.

The small noise of content that Stiles made at the back of his throat brought Derek out of his internal musings and he broke the kiss to lean his forehead against Stiles’ and open his eyes into startling amber ones.

“Morning,” Stiles whispered.

“Morning,” Derek replied, dragging his palm from Stiles’ cheek, down the side of his neck. “What, uh- what was that for?”

“I always thought we’d have longer to figure all this out but- but then, being back here and heading into God knows what… maybe we don’t. And maybe… if this is all we get…”

Derek cut him off with a firm press of his lips again.

“This won’t be all we get,” he promised. He had no right to promise that, but he did anyway.

“Well, call it an insurance policy and kiss me anyway,” Stiles mumbled against his lips.

-

It had taken them a lot longer to get back to Beacon Hills than they’d first anticipated. The pack would have been expecting them around 7am, but after their nap and then their… after-nap activities… they didn’t see the “Welcome to Beacon Hills” sign until 1pm. Stiles had shot Scott a “landed safely but having a nap before the drive home” text as soon a they’d checked in, but their phones had both been silent all morning and it was starting to niggle at Derek. Stiles’ hands were alternating between gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white and flitting around all over the place like he had electricity thrumming through each long finger.

“We should have heard from someone by now, right?” Stiles asked, echoing Derek’s thoughts.

“I tried to call Scott before but his phone was off. Cora’s too,” Derek admitted. He hadn’t wanted to tell Stiles that when they had still been 90 minutes away and there wasn’t anything they could do. Stiles put his foot down further and the Jeep valiantly gave an extra jolt of life.

“Try Lydia.”

Lydia didn’t answer either. Neither did Liam or Malia. Neither did the Sheriff.

“OK, time for plan B,” Stiles decided. “There’s no point going to my house if no one’s there. And I doubt Scott’s just chilling at home on his couch either.”

“Preserve?” Derek asked.

“Well, that _is_ where the majority of the creepy things in this town tend to occur,” Stiles agreed, heading the Jeep in the direction of the woods. Derek rolled his window down and tried to catch a scent.

“Keep following this track. I’ve got Scott’s scent, but there’s definitely a lot of humans this way as well.”

“Hunters?”

“Probably. I can smell wolfs bane. There are a few wolf scents I don’t recognize too though. Can’t tell if they’re friend or foe.”

“I can’t believe they started already,” Stiles frowned. “They haven’t even heard my plan yet and they think they can do this without me?”

“Without _us_ ,” Derek corrected.

“Oh yes, sorry, I forgot you’re the one with all the great plans again.”

“You mock me, but who’s idea was the motel this morning?” Stiles snorted and then grinned. “And I have another plan now,” Derek continued seriously. “Any wolves in the vicinity will be able to hear the Jeep coming a mile away, but the sound should also cover up my footfalls if I run along-side you. Let me out here and I’ll guide you.”

Stiles slowed the Jeep to a stop, but threw a hand out to stop Derek before he could climb all the way out.

“Hey… thanks,” he said, face suddenly serious again.

“For what?”

“Nothing was making you come back here. I mean, I have my Dad and Scott and Lydia here – I had to come back home. But- you didn’t really have to anymore. So… thanks.”

“I had someone to come back for too,” Derek said meaningfully. Then, because he could smell a lot more hunters than he’d first been able to pick up, and because one of those was definitely Kate, and because Derek was sick of trying to keep everything inside in case he fucked everything up again, and because he’d just spent the morning in bed with Stiles, and because it was _true_ , he added “I’ll follow you anywhere, Stiles. You’re my home.”

-

Derek followed Scott’s scent at a sprint for ten minutes with Stiles bumbling along on the track beside him in the Jeep before he started hearing heartbeats and murmured voices.

“Do it and you’ll be pumped full of wolfs bane before you make it one step, Mutt,” a deep voice was threatening someone up ahead somewhere through the trees.

“You won’t get away with any of this. What do you think is going to happen after you kill me?” It was Scott and he sounded cornered, but he could obviously hear them coming and was stalling for time. Derek motioned to Stiles to keep driving straight ahead at full speed with some questionable hand motions as he was running, that Stiles somehow interpreted correctly.

Less than a minute later and Stiles had crashed the Jeep through the scrub and straight into two hunters that had Scott cornered in a small clearing. The men obviously hadn’t been expecting the interruption and were easily knocked unconscious when the Jeep’s bull-bar knocked them flying into a tree. Derek was following right behind and skidded to a stop just as he heard Stiles greeting Scott.

“Didn’t think you were doing this without me, did ya?”

“Without _us_ ,” Derek interrupted with a smile. This had been Derek’s plan, thank you very much. And it had gone swimmingly.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Ugh. Someone’s getting a big head about their planning skills already,” Stiles complained. “No one likes a gloater, Sappywolf. And besides, my baby gets the credit for this one, don’t you Roscoe?” Stiles cooed, stroking the steering wheel. “Daddy missed you.”

The sudden gasp from Scott drew both Stiles and Derek’s attention back to him.

“Dude, you guys had sex?!”


End file.
